


My Love's a Revolver

by saintjoy



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Depression, M/M, Mentions of Suicide, Use of Very Strong Alcohol, dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-18
Updated: 2013-07-18
Packaged: 2017-12-20 14:44:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/888488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saintjoy/pseuds/saintjoy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the cyan's been bled out of your world, he comes along and fills it with a vibrant, fiery orange.</p><p>(Written for the HSWC Bonus Round 4)</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Love's a Revolver

As you trudge back into your empty apartment and slam your suitcase on the floor, you wipe the sweat off your brow and decide you've had too long a week. She's left you out in the hot mud, took her things and your sun with her, without so much a reason as, "I can do better without you." You'd never meant to bring her down; you did all you could to step out of her way when she needed her space and gravitated to her side whenever things got too much. You'd always thought you and she would make a great husband and wife. You still think that as you collapse onto your couch with bits of white stuffing poking out of the arms and tighten your tie and hope it's enough to make you asphyxiate and that it isn't painful when your eyes finally roll back into your head. The only thing that keeps you alive is the distant buzzing of your cellphone that nags at you until you get over yourself and answer it already.

"Jakey Jake," a feminine voice hums out on the other end, "don't tell me you were too busy contemplatin' killing yourself to not answer immediately."  
"Howdy, Roxy. What's shaking?"  
"Definitely not your booty, which is what _should_ be shaking. Quit whining to yourself and get your ass off the couch! I can hear the self pity rolling off of you with every word you speak. Come down to the club and hang out with your good friend like old times, maybe get yourself a good lay or two. Eh?" You sigh and lean your elbows on your knees.  
"I screwed it up pretty bad, my gal," you sigh. "What person in their right mind would be interested in me?"  
"Er, have you looked yourself in the mirror lately?" She sounds slightly inebriated. "Only reason why they wouldn't be is because all your moxy is sapped out of you over one breakup!"  
"I don't want to rebound, Rox. I've already fucked enough poor souls."  
"Including yours. You don't have to jump right back into a relationship; just get yourself a good dick in the ass or get your dick a good ass and practice the art of enjoyin' yourself!" She pauses, and her voice darkens. "If I don't see you around tonight, I'm going straight up to your apartment and jacking you off myself whether you like it or not."  
"Goodness, fine!" Without saying your proper goodbyes, you hang up the phone and chuck it across the room. This is a useless endeavor. This is only going to make you unhappier, sitting around a bunch of happy drunks making out while you have jackshit.

Regardless, you find yourself stripping out of your working man's clothes and getting into something a little more alluring. You always felt more comfortable in shorts, anyways.

The music booming throughout the club assaults your ears in an unpleasant way and it only adds to your unwillingness to be here. As expected, your senses are additionally attacked by the heavy smell of sex and sweat in the air, the sight of a young woman sucking the hard cock of a man in a far corner and another sight of two girls frotting not far from. You bite down on your lip and navigate through the crowd of people grinding against each other (and you swear you feel a hand on your ass) to shove yourself onto a stool right in front of your alleged "good friend." "I'm here; are you quite happy now?" She whips around and lets out a hearty giggle, and the weight in your half-open palm tells you she's dropped a good sum of liquor in a glass and handed it to you.  
"Good to see you somewhere other than in your sweatpants eating away at a tub of ice cream!" You half-heartedly swish the liquid around in its container and take a sip. It burns in your throat but you manage to swallow it down with only a moderate bout of coughing. "How was your day, hm?"  
"Dull," you mutter. "Colorless. Boring."  
"Ain't it always? Why don't you take a step to change it." Roxy leans over the counter and cups her hand around her mouth. You take the initiative and lean in halfway. "Cutie a few seats down has been looking at you since you walked in. Blonde, wearing shades." You start to turn your head and she slaps your temple. "Don't look! He's lean, got broad shoulders but a thin waist. Gayer than Neil Patrick Harrison on the Vitamin Water float in the pride parade. Checking out your ass and your man package." A blush overtakes your face and you instinctively look down at your crotch. "Wait five seconds after I go back to my business to glance over at him. Go get him, tiger." She winks at you and you purse your lips. Regardless of your bisexuality, you are not about to go ripping down the tight pants of some young lad that probably is not actually that much younger than you at all and has really nice cheekbones and his thighs are really nice actually and wow those pants are _really_ tight god he's fucking gorgeous. You don't even realize that you've been staring for more than 10 seconds until he's walking up to you, with his hips swaying from side to side in just a perfect subtle way.

"See something you like?" You purse your lips into a straight line and avert your eyes immediately. "Didn't see you so quickly to look away a few seconds ago."  
Your hand finds its way to scratch the back of your neck. "E-Erm, good evening, Mister...?"  
"Strider. Dirk Strider."  
"Fan of Bond movies, are you?"  
"What?" Your scratching becomes rougher.  
"Never mind it," you reply. "How old are you?"  
"What age do you want me to be?"  
"It doesn't really matter." What a liar you are. "I'm just intrigued. It's a useful piece of information."  
"Curiosity killed the cat, didn't it?" Dirk runs his fingers through his hair and trails them down his neck. "Twenty-three." You sigh in relief. "What about you, sweetcheeks, what do you have going on?"  
"What?" He lets out a breathy chuckle and you swear he's gotten at least 4 inches closer to you since you started talking. "I'm, Jake. Jake English."  
"Are you actually English or is that just a namesake?"  
"Ahaha! No, sir, I'm merely--" A loud cry from the center of the room and the crashing of glass overpowers your speech, leaving your words dropped onto the floor. You blink and only that second allows the blond to shift himself into your lap. Oh goodness his fingers are trailing down your shoulders and are those his lips on your neck? "Ah, _Dirk_ \--" You smell a shred of alcohol on his breath and you realize that whatever Roxy gave you was a lot stronger than what you were used to. You feel lust heating up your forehead as Dirk's hips dig into your crotch and you never expected that you were going to actually get yourself some tonight.  
"Pretty big, aren't you?" Those nimble fingers of his tug at the waistband of your shorts. He's warm, colorful, a fiery... orange. In your world drained of pigment. "Got a special place you want to go, or should I decide?"  
"I'm not too sure, if this is a good idea," you sputter. "I'm not a good candidate for a partner, I just got out of a." He slowly shakes his head against your collarbone and you swear you hear Roxy's humming giggles from behind your head. When did you turn around in the first place?  
"Look, I know your type. You think that every person you have sex with you have to hold onto with your life and slap a ring on their finger and call them your sugar pie. You don't have to worry. You don't even have to scribble your phone number onto my palm in magic marker when you leave me in bed the morning after. Okay?" 

You furrow your brow. That idea doesn't sing to you, but the melody your nerves are drumming to you drives you forward and your hands are on his hips and you're kissing him and it feels like his skin is the cooling lava on the side of a recently erupted volcano melting away the bedrock you'd built up around yourself. His hands sift through your hair that you'd forgotten to wash the night before, he tastes like a Bloody Mary and it's not unpleasant but you wish the corners of the stool weren't digging into your buttocks. You consider the fact that you're in public; you never were an exhibitionist and are not about to become one. He hums against your lips and you part for a second to speak, but the way he bends his neck to the side draws you in like a camel to water and you latch onto it and suck on it like nectar. You can barely hear his moans over the loud music and energized, heated ambience of the club and a part of you worries if he's actually twenty-three but when he grinds down into you you forget what you were thinking about and decide that moving somewhere more private where you can hear every noise he's making.

"D-Dirk," you whisper as his head bobs down to your chest and he teases one of your nipples with his teeth through your shirt. "Let's go somewhere...!" You moan when he bites down and his palm presses into your erection--when did you get an erection?  
"More private?" he finishes for you. "Sounds like a good idea to me."

You don't remember how you managed to get to his apartment, but you decide that you couldn't give less of a shit when he takes off his shirt and throws it onto the floor and works his hands faster than you can follow to gets yours off as well. "So big," you hear him whisper as he's palming your crotch again and licking at your neck. You whimper and buck into his touch and wind your hands around his waist and tug at his belt; you're not sure why he would even need one, being that his pants cling to him as if they were tights. Your hazy mind imagines him wearing a blouse and frilly skirt, maybe an apron, knee-high socks and Mary Janes, he's _Jane_ and you your heart sinks back into the mattress as his lips meet yours again and you tug at that leather around his hips accented by an oversized buckle. He rolls his ass in the air as you tug the offending garment down and grope at whatever you can through his white briefs. "Show me what you got babe." You barely process the words until he's tugging at your shorts. Your hands freeze on his body, then dart to your waistband to keep it exactly where it is. His struggle to pull them down ceases for a moment. He looks down at you and you realize he's taken off his shades. His eyes are orange. Neat.

"What's the hold up?" You cough and shift around in an awkward way. "I'm not gonna be the only one in his underwear here. C'mon baby, lemme see what you're hiding underneath."  
"Aren't those song lyrics?" Your glasses are gone. The world is blurry and grey. He's colorful. "I'm not..."  
"I can feel how big you are. I wanna get some of that in me." The muscles in your arms go lax and his face against your stomach twists into a grin. His hot tongue runs along the trail of hair from your belly button to the base of your crotch, and he unbuttons and unzips you and you can't find it in yourself to be embarrassed when your erection springs up from its previous restraints. You look down your torso and see his eyes widen. "Whoa. That's more than 7, isn't it?"  
"I-I've never measured." He doesn't waste time in yanking down your boxers and getting his hands all over you.  
"Thick," he whispers; the heat makes you shiver. "Gonna need a lot of lube for that." He feels around for his pants and waves a small bottle and two foil packets you assume to be condoms. Dirk tears one open and unrolls it over your cock, pinches the tip and the next thing you know his mouth wide open and you throw your head back at the pleasure that overtakes you.

Watching his head bob up and down on your dick is a sight more arousing than even the electric sensation brought on by every lick, suck, and nibble he lays on you. You buck up into his mouth, try, so desperate, to get more and he chokes but the way he happily hums into you makes you forgive your lack of self restraint. You shudder, gasp and moan as you tremble; your thighs clench, you breathe hard, sweat rolls off of you like you were caught in a rainstorm and there's absolutely nothing on your mind but feeling good.

You whine when he releases you with a pop, but his touch doesn't linger far as he hovers over you and opens the bottle of lubricant. Dirk looks surprised when you catch his wrist. "I. I'll do it."

You don't remember how you came to be sucking this man's cock while fucking him with your fingers as his back arches into the air and his fingers clutch the sheets (since when were you on a bed?), but the way he moans your name out stings you in the most delightful way and shocks you like Jane's voice... never did.

His hand wraps around your dick and slicks it down with lubricant for you; he then crosses his wrists behind his head and cocks his chin toward you. "Come and get me, babe." He doesn't have to say it twice. The way his anus pulses against you makes you forget what you're doing for a split second and you stall like a car going 60 miles per hour on 1st gear. Dirk's fingers claw at your back, he tugs you in and reminds you of what you're doing and his dirty whispers against the lobe of your ear encourages you to get on with it already. He cries out when you suddenly jerk in and you freeze again, but the flurry of words telling you it hurts you're so fucking big but god it feels so good fill him up please fill him up he needs it so bad so good so good you're great don't stop at all keeps you from stopping. It takes you no more than five seconds from when the base of your erection brushes against the sensitive skin that surrounds his entrance to start moving in shallow repetitions. He begs you to go faster, asking you what you're waiting for, just fuck him already, stop being a bitch about it; you're perfect. You aren't used to being rough. You know you like it, and you take it upon yourself to pound him against the frame of the bed so hard you know that it cracks and you can't remember if it's your bed or not over the sound of him screaming until the paint peels off the walls.

The light sifts through the blinds and hits his pale hair that can't be natural. He rolls over and settles against your bare chest; your head aches and your limbs ache more but you still find the strength to wrap your arms around him and nuzzle your nose into his neck. He smells like coconuts. You think your glasses might be broken. Your fingers trace along the imprints on his skin made by the creases in the bed sheets. He begins to stir, and in unison you both sit up and lean against the board on the end of the bed. A pack of cigarettes appears in his hand, and a lighter in the other. "Want one?" You haven't smoked in years. She didn't like how it tasted on your lips. You take one and let him light it for you. On the edge of an exhale, Dirk says, "Gonna leave soon?"  
You think less than you usually would. "It's a Saturday. I don't have work." A pause settles over your heads. You breathe in the smoke and it makes you cough, but you feel more relaxed than you've felt in 5 years and 1 month. "Could you remind me how old you are, chum?"  
"I'm twenty-five." You purse your lips. Something in the back of your mind bothers you about it, but another drag of smoke makes you forget. The air conditioner is on. The heat of him beside you makes you sweat.

He doesn't have to hold out his hand for you to write your number on it.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Dreamwidth user [akumacrimson](http://akumacrimson.dreamwidth.org/)'s prompt, which included the following songs:  
> [Peacock - Katy Perry](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OoBC2cSH7U4)  
> [What I Like - Charli XCX](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vfh626mxwNc)  
> [Revolver - Madonna](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eyGRE2VUmQ0)


End file.
